


Well, thank god for silver linings.

by erzvolnes



Series: Molly & Caleb aka Disaster Dads [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 13:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13811787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzvolnes/pseuds/erzvolnes
Summary: Molly doesn’t like to ask questions, but he knows panic when he sees it.





	Well, thank god for silver linings.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a damn thing in over a year so please forgive me this self-indulgent shit. It's 1.5k of Caleb and Molly hugging that's pretty much it. Please give feedback if you have any I really barely know how to moderate my own writing.
> 
> aka I feel like Molly understands trauma.

 

Molly notices it first as the rapid movement of Caleb’s leg. Jogging up and down, mildly at first. Caleb’s hands are wrapped around his mug of ale and his leg begins to jostle the table, and it takes Molly a moment to realize that Caleb is shaking, even though he holds his tankard tightly to hide the tremble in his hands and stares into the watered-down beer to stop his gaze from flitting about. 

 

Molly doesn’t like to ask questions, but he knows panic when he sees it.

 

He guides Caleb from the table with a laugh, breathes that he’s maybe had too much to drink. Their friends don’t believe it, but the other patrons will. He hears Caleb’s breath rattling in his throat, sticking more with each inhale, and when Caleb says Mollymauk’s name, the syllables seem to catch between Caleb’s teeth, as if it’s his first time saying it. 

 

Mollymauk very carefully doesn’t touch him. His hand hovers at the small of Caleb’s back, close enough to feel the feverish heat coming off him and to Caleb’s credit, he lets himself be guided, holding himself together enough the whole walk to the upper floor of the Tavern, passing by his own occupied room to stop outside Molly’s. 

 

Once inside, with the door closed behind them, Caleb takes a heaving breath and holds it. The lantern Mollymauk lit hours ago is burning at barely an ember, but Caleb’s skin is visibly damp with sweat even in the dim light. Mollymauk ducks his head to try and catch his gaze, finds only the clench of Caleb’s jaw and the faint tremble of his lips. 

 

Mollymauk reaches out, touches his fingers to the sliver of skin exposed just beneath Caleb’s sleeve. 

 

“Alright?” He asks, and Caleb twitches, his held breath rushing out of him as he speaks. 

 

“ _ Ja _ ,” his voice is sticky, “Yes, I’m-”

 

He’s lying. Of course he’s lying. Mollymauk curls his fingers into Caleb’s palm, drops his voice into the softest range he can manage. 

 

“It’s alright,” A shiver runs through Caleb, from his shoulders down to where their hands touch. “You’re alright, it’s just me.” He offers a smile, as genuine as he can manage, and Caleb’s eyes dart up to gauge his expression. 

 

Caleb takes a deep breath and seems to choke on it, making a soft, wretched noise that seems to signal a breaking point, his tense posture slumping, breaths coming fast and rasping wetly, high in his throat. 

 

Mollymauk feels his heart break, just a little bit. He’s been this man before, understands being so full of feelings that it seems there’s nowhere to fucking put it all, and the fact that Caleb has contained himself for _hours_ without complaint endears Mollymauk to him terribly. Caleb sways towards him - unconsciously or not, it isn’t clear, and Molly catches him with a grip on his upper arms that makes Caleb lurch and gasp like he’s been knifed.

 

Molly can’t help himself, he really can’t. 

 

He pulls Caleb to the creaky little bed in the center of the room, seats them both amongst the piles of stirred blankets and wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders, hearing the quiet, mournful noise he muffles into the velvet shoulder of his coat. Mollymauk wonders, briefly, if he’s done the wrong thing, if this isn’t the kind of comfort Caleb wants. He tends to default to physical affection, but perhaps Caleb only wants space and time to himself, maybe the affection will make it  _ worse _ -

 

He feels Caleb’s hands fumble beneath the weight of his coat, grip tightly the material of his shirtfront, and Molly can’t help a relieved smile, even as the other man shakes as if he’s cold, breathes fast and open-mouthed against Mollymauk’s neck. 

 

“Sorry, I’m  _ sorry _ , it’s -” 

 

Mollymauk hushes him and scratches his fingers through the, admittedly, slightly oily hair at the nape of Caleb’s neck.

 

“Don’t be daft,” he says on a soft laugh. “You’ve earned this much, at least.”  

 

Caleb curls into himself at that, draws his knees and elbows closer to his body in such a way that it gives Mollymauk almost no choice but to be pressed more tightly against him. The closeness forces them to breathe in unison, chests pressed so flush that Caleb’s restless fingers clutching Molly’s shirt dig into their stomachs, knuckles bony to the point of being uncomfortable. It forces Caleb’s breathing to slow, no choice but to match the cadence of Mollymauk’s inhales, and it seems to help calm him, if only a bit. 

 

Molly thanks the gods for small miracles. 

 

He blinks, and Mollymauk can feel the drag of his lashes across the side of his neck. It’s -  _ intimate _ . Would easily be  _ too _ intimate were the situation any different; he’s known the man only a handful of days, and prone as Mollymauk is to physical displays of emotion, he  _ does _ have limits, somewhere.

 

As it is, he finds he doesn’t mind it too terribly. Caleb deserves a little bit of patience. 

 

There they remain, on Mollymauk’s mess of a cot, and he is surprised that Caleb doesn’t cry; He only tenses in fits and starts, as if coming to a sudden and repetitive realisation of where he is. Each time, he freezes for a number of moments, relaxing only when Mollymauk pulls him in tighter, or rubs a hand across the small of his back. Any reassurance that his presence is welcome. Molly briefly wonders how long it’s been since Caleb had been this close to somebody, and even more briefly wonders if he’s  _ ever  _ been, before cutting that line of thinking before it can develop. None of his business. 

 

Mollymauk doesn’t know how much time passes; evidently not much, as their companions are still audibly making-merry downstairs, but the lantern eventually dies out and leaves them in near-pitch darkness. Caleb’s breathing settles in increments, and the vice-grip he had on Molly gentles until his hands are simply a warm pressure at his sides. 

 

Eventually, Caleb shifts deliberately, his stubble stinging against Molly’s bare neck as he presses closer for a moment, before drawing back in such a way as to clearly indicate he’s had enough. Mollymauk lets him go, feels Caleb’s hands slip out from beneath his extravagant coat, and pulls back to regard him from a distance. 

 

“You look like death warmed-up, dear.” He says, not unkindly.

 

And Caleb, bless his heart, he  _ smiles _ . Though it looks like it takes more energy than he has to spare. A weary, distant little quirk of his lips and Mollymauk grins widely in return. “Come on, here you go.” He stands, hauls Caleb to his feet and christ, he really does look awful, clammy and tired and exactly like he’d been reliving some horrific nightmare for the last few hours, which, well. 

 

He’s probably allowed to look like shit, all things considered.

 

“I’d better get some beauty sleep then, yes?” Caleb says, eyes unfocused in the darkness and Molly clicks his tongue, puts a hand on his shoulder to help him to the door.

 

“Afraid so. Doctor’s orders.” 

 

“You are not a doctor.” Caleb’s voice pitches slightly as if he’s trying and failing to make a joke, and Mollymauk takes pity on him. 

 

“I’m a  _ figurative _ doctor,” He opens the door to his room, light from the hall illuminating them both,. “And I know sleep is often the best medicine.” 

 

Caleb’s smile is slightly wider this time, crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and it warms Mollymauk more than he’d willingly admit. He follows Caleb from the room, wishing him good-night as he disappears into the darkness of his own room. He peers in after him, and glimpses a pair of huge, yellow-green eyes staring back from within before the door closes. 

 

Mollymauk feels tired, like he’d traded his energy to Caleb and taken some of his exhaustion in turn. He wanted a  _ drink _ , to relax and recuperate before resting. 

 

Descending the first step into the ground floor, he heard a horrific crash, followed by the familiar - and by this point, worrying - sound of Jester’s laughter. A high shriek followed, and Mollymauk could  _ honestly _ not tell if it belonged to Beau or Fjord. He grinned, and continued to join with whatever disaster was taking place. 

 

A man’s work never ended, apparently. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
